


Blizzard Shadows

by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/pseuds/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels
Summary: Frank and Karen both get a scare.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Karen Page
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	Blizzard Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here: https://letmetellyouaboutmyfeels.tumblr.com/post/185646553773/so-that-kastle-gifset-you-just-reblogged-made-me-v
> 
> Based on this gifset: https://letmetellyouaboutmyfeels.tumblr.com/post/185530133888

Frank shifted in his sleep, rolling back a little and starting slightly as he felt a slim arm underneath him, wrapping around. The first few weeks, that kind of touch startled him awake, had him reaching for the gun under his pillow before he remembered who it was, where he was.

Now, he just idly kissed Karen’s arm as he settled.

“Time izzit?” she murmured.

He cracked his eye open and glanced at the clock. “Not time to get up yet.”

Sleeping in bed with another person hadn’t been a habit he’d easily regained. Nightmares startled him awake, had him reaching for a weapon. He was scared one day he’d wake up with his hands around Karen’s throat, or worse. And then there were the normal things all couples had to learn to deal with—Karen kicked in her sleep and hogged the covers, Frank apparently snored (or so she told him).

But slowly, surely, over time…

Frank didn’t know when he’d fallen back asleep but he jerked awake a minute before the alarm clock went off.

“Hey, Karen.” His voice was rough from sleep in the early morning, too gruff, he felt like, gravel and gunpowder, but Karen said she liked it. “Time to get up.”

Karen made a sound that was not quite a mewl, not quite a grumble, and Frank felt his heart shattering and reforming all over again as he sat up and she buried her face into his hip. She trusted him, somehow, was vulnerable and sleepy and early-in-the-morning-grumpy with him.

He still didn’t know how he’d managed it.

“C’mon, you’ll hate yourself if you don’t get up.” He glanced out the window, taking in the snow. “Or I could take all the hot water.”

That got her up and out, hustling to sink into the tub while Frank got his gear together.

“You going to let me trim that beard?” Karen called. He could hear her splashing in the tub, could imagine her, pink and soft and most importantly _alive_. It wasn’t so much sexual—at least not at the moment—as it was a fear. A fear of how vulnerable she was, right now, defenseless…

He knew he had to stop being scared for her. But he couldn’t seem to figure out how.

“After this job,” he promised her. He knew he looked like a goddamn wild man from the depths of the woods or something.

Karen’s cellphone went off and he grabbed it off the dresser, sliding open the text. “Boss says not to come in.”

“What?” He heard sloshing and walked in to find Karen struggling to sit up from where she’d slunk down under the warm water.

“Says the blizzard alert’s too high, stay indoors, make good use of the internet, something something he secretly cares if you all break your necks on the ice.”

Karen sank back down into the water. “Mmm. That means some of us can go back to sleep.”

Frank ignored the pointed hint to also go back to sleep, in bed, with her, cuddling in case the heating broke again, but he had to move now. He’d timed this raid carefully. “Get an extra forty winks for me.”

Karen hid her disappointment well—she always did, and he knew that she felt guilty for even being disappointed, when he also knew how well she understood, accepted him—but he saw the flash of it across her face like a shadow over the moon, before she nodded and playfully flicked water at him.

By the time he finished getting ready, Karen had dried herself off and climbed back into bed. Notably, sans pajamas.

Frank sat on the edge of the bed, ghosting his fingers over her form. Karen exhaled, the only sign she knew he was there.

He’d learned to read her, and she him, in the little breaths, the pauses between words, the angle of a mouth, a gaze, the flutter of fingers.

He’d learned what she was saying, even when she didn’t—when they didn’t—when they never actually said it.

Frank kissed her neck, just below the curve of her jaw, breathing in the coconut smell of her conditioner, and then slipped away.

He knew she heard what he was saying, too.

The job was the job. Not worth talking about those scumbags more than could be helped. Human trafficking was one of those things that sounded a little absurd, in that sense that it felt like it should be impossible, _how could people do that to other people_ , and yet. And yet.

The snow and ice had turned to mush by the time he pulled out and started driving back to the apartment. Fuckin’ blizzards. The one good thing about them was that it kept everyone else off the streets, made his drive home easier…

Police lights.

Frank slowed. Someone had crashed their car on the bridge, lucky they didn’t go over, smashed into the railing… someone…

Oh fucking _fuck_ that was Karen’s—

He slammed to a stop, barely remembering to throw the car into park as he leapt out of the driver’s seat. “Karen!”

She was standing, wrapped in a blanked, red eyes, looking shaken. An officer turned as he approached. “Sir—sir you can’t—”

“That’s my wife.” The lie slid off his tongue easily. It was one they’d told before. ‘Girlfriend’ or ‘boyfriend’ didn’t have the same ring of authority to it, even if the dedication was no more or less because of a piece of paper.

Not that he didn’t—wouldn’t—want that piece of paper at some point. Not that—

“Frank.” Karen’s voice was hoarse, broken, and he knew—the car didn’t look too bad, and she didn’t seem to have a scrape on her, but he knew that wasn’t why she was shaken up right now.

The officer let him pass, which was a good fuckin’ thing because Frank would’ve hated to use his fists in this case. He pulled her in and felt her shaking, shaking, shaking like an icicle, like she’d shatter into so many shards if he didn’t hold her together.

“Someone cut the brakes on the car,” the officer informed him. “Your wife said she was a reporter, I’m guessing someone doesn’t like the story she’s working on. I was just telling her it could’ve been a lot worse, all this ice n’ all. You lucked out.”

Frank nodded, tried not to be curt about it, the guy was just doing his job, but _fuck_. He couldn’t chastise Karen for risking her life given his own line of work but Jesus, _Jesus_.

He got her home in his car, arranged for a tow for hers to a garage he trusted, see if he could look it over tomorrow and find anything else tampered with. Karen was silent the whole time as he bundled her up, helped her onto the couch. It took a lot, to make her silent.

“You want take out?” he asked. “Or something homemade?”

Karen scrubbed at her eyes. “Homemade.”

“Okay.” He was pretty sure they had enough in the cupboards for a decent lasagna. Heavy, comforting food. That always helped, or so his grandma would say.

He kissed her hair. “It’s not your fault,” he told her. “It’s not your fault.”

He did make her dinner, eventually, but first he sat with her on the couch for a very, very long time.


End file.
